About the Widow Wyile (her bio, poetry style)

The Widow Wyile travels
has been travelling       and still trods
on through transitional terrain
full of beauty and barbs
boulders  shards  swamps  and  blooms
of songs and stillness
that mark the wandering track
from long-time partner to widow
from public professional to freelance
from pedantry to poetry
from academic sensibility to creative possibility
from over-stretched and frazzled
to fairly balanced and dazzled

After some thirty years on the university in
formation highway
where she devotedly opened
windows and doors
listened  suggested  read  corrected
prodded  perfected  other people’s
writing and encouragingly presented
to emerged and emerging adults
works for children of all ages
from crawlers to toddlers walkers to runners
upon readers and resistors of books and pictures
she proffered and plied
poetry   comics   and thrilling board
books and those that pop! out, oh see
how they vie
for position in cementing her mission
in making all the students listen to the simple
salient reason that it all really matters
because because because   it is the very cause
the very foundation for all literary castles
chapels  homes and follies?
Well.
After all that, she’s taken a brake
by the hand and cranked it right up
And after a year of jumping practice
she has leapt onto the roof of her story
book house to contemplate the view
of valley and mountains
treetops and sky
ground and horizon round
about the place she calls home in Mi’kma’ki
the teachings of Elders and friends
the good fortune of times and stories shared
and to jot some not so sensible rhymes
and draw some swirling
lines in her fat red ruled note
book

When the winds get to whistling
strength she sensibly floats
back down the ground and tends
to quotidian needs
as everyone must
feeds Gorgeous her goat
her tattered drafts and leftover beans
then sails off to the land of dreams
And that is all
about the Widow
Wyile for now
Except to say,
that after such loss
she’s glad to have found
her UniVersery